


Melt

by dspd



Series: M's spones oneshots [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: 60's AU, M/M, One Night Stand, Summer AU, this was inspired by Spock's reaction to Bones in booty shorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24479932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dspd/pseuds/dspd
Summary: The first time Spock sees him is through his viewfinder.
Relationships: Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Series: M's spones oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768228
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	Melt

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Space, Vee, and Science for the conversation about booty short that inspired this fic
> 
> cross-posted with images on my Tumblr (yes I searched vintage porn for the perfect one...) https://eldritchgrandmother.tumblr.com/post/615447659921162240/gift-ficphotoset-for-sciencebluefeelings

The first time Spock sees him is through his viewfinder.

The sun gilds him, brightens his hair, dances along his skin and highlights smooth calc muscle. He stands easy and confident and Spock feels something uncurl deep inside as white teeth flash in his direction.

“Hold on. It’s too hot.”. His voice is mild, sweet, with a Southern tang.

Spock peeks over the camera to watch as he reaches over his shoulder to tug his shirt off, revealing even more golden skin. He looks back at the camera, crushing the shirt into a small ball between his hands.

Spock’s mouth is dry.

“Okay.”

Spock presses the button.

***

He spots him again later that night.

Spock is sitting in a darker corner of the bar, nursing a weak gin and tonic when the man walks in. He’s in a small group. They’re all summer tan, nearly vibrating with youthful energy. Spock raises his camera to capture it but the group breaks in two before he can. Spock keeps the camera near his eye, ready to move when they reconvene. Spock finds himself following the two men who move to the bar. He’s admiring the way his shirt falls as the man leans against the bar when he shift and turns.

Their eyes meet across the room.

Spock can’t look away.

***

The man leaves before Spock’s shift is up.

Spock tries to quell the disappointment.

***

Spock turns the corner and nearly stumbles over the leg splayed across the hall, catching himself with an arm thrown wide.

He’s sitting there, an arm wrapped around his raised knee, cheek smushed against his forearm. His face is in shadow. Spock hesitates.

“Are you all right?” Spock asks.

The man raises his head and Spock is treated to a slow smile, one side tugging slightly higher than the other.

“I was wonderin’ when you’d come out,” he says. The drawl is thicker, and Spock suppresses a shiver at the way he drags his, striking blue eyes down and up Spock’s body.

Spock is acutely aware of his too long legs, the knobbly ankles that peek put from his highwaters, the small stain on the hem near his left thumb, the way his linen shirt is sticking to him.

The man tilts his head. The movement should look odd on a grown man but Spock swallows hard at the coy look that’s thrown his way. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen such thick lashes on a man.

“Can I come in?”

Spock steps past, unlocks the door with unsteady hands and holds it open.

***

Somehow Spock ends up pinned against the wall, the man’s fingers trailing along his jaw, callouses rasping against his stubble as his stomach takes the weight of another body. Spock’s hands are around his biceps, resting against the swell and suddenly it’s not enough. His fingers flex and he’s pushing back, just enough to reach down and grab the damned shirt that in his way even as he follows the lush mouth. He can’t bear to let it stray too far away.

There’s fingers scrambling along his front and then that glorious weight is back and a hand is tangling in his hair to pull him down into a deeper kiss. The other hand slides inside his button up and rests against his rib. It’s hot and he when it shifts to thumb at his nipple he twitches and gasps.

“Yeah,” his partner breathes, “just like that.”

Spock loses himself in the heat, the friction that’s building between them, eyes sliding shut so he can enjoy the way he feels, the way he tastes, the way his breath is slowly getting louder.

The next time he opens his eyes, he’s being pushed onto the bed, springs squeaking as he bounces a little. His partner smiles and he’s struck again by how beautiful those blue eyes are.

“I-”

Spock doesn’t even finish the word before he’s gasping, bucking up into the glorious pressure and straining away from the threat of overstimulation at the same time. Those strong, nimble fingers are splayed around his hips, pulling him back towards the edge of the bed as he’s pinned again.

It’s too much and not enough and Spock is wiggling a hand between them when a mouth closed onto the juncture of his neck. The man groans softly as he holds the flesh firmly between his teeth, tongue flat and wet and hot against his skin, scraping across his skin. As sparks of pleasure skitter down his spine, Sock thinks he finally understands the point of hickies and he pulls his feet up onto the bed to press himself up into that mouth more easily.

His partner is working his way down his chest, fingers caressing his skin, firmly enough not to tickle, softly enough for his skin to tighten in anticipation.

His hands are fisted in the sheets as his belt is unbuckled and his pants and briefs are pushed down. He raises his hips clear obediently and is reward with a chuckle.

The man steps away to divest himself of his own clothing and he’s left aching in the air. A breeze from the window he left open earlier is welcome and cool for such a hot night.

Then he’s back, pushing down in time to Spock’s movements, hands on either side of his waist, skin warm and reddening against Spock’s cooler toned, skin. They’re a play on opposites, Spock’s nearly silent gasps in counterpart to his partner’s groans which are wrenched from clenched teeth, pulled out of him in time with each short, sharp thrust of his hips. Spock revels in the feel of him against his thigh, the way the body against him is hard and smooth compared to his own relatively soft belly and rough, hairy body.

All too soon, he’s trembling and losing their rhythm, jerking as his pleasure peaks, spilling into the space between them with a soft cry.

“Oh- I’m-”

He jerks above him, shoulders curving down, head buried in his shoulder, the sound of him muffled and vibrating through Spock’s frame.

Even in his current state Spock can’t help but take yet another moment of pleasure as his partner collapses on top of him.

The weight still feels good. It’s grounding in the post coital haze Spock finds himself in.

They lie like that for a while, breathe evening out into something smoother, calmer.

There’s a cricket somewhere in the room.

“That feels nice,” he mumbles, and Spock realizes he’d been sliding his fingers through the slightly sweaty head of hair on his chest.

“Don’t stop.”

So Spock doesn’t.

***

Hours later, as he watches the man redress he asks.

“What’s your name?”

That smile blooms, the one with slightly crooked teeth and an overbite, then stretches even further into a grin that can’t be described any other way.

He’s cute. Spock can feel his ears go hot.

“Leonard.”


End file.
